Video Games
by Stephane Richer
Summary: living for the fame...kissing in the blue dark


Video Games

Disclaimer: I don't own Lana Del Rey's "Video Games" or Bisco Hatori's _Ouran High School Host Club._

* * *

Being a famous fashion designer was ultimately more trouble than it was worth. On the one hand, Hitachiin Kaoru got to rub elbows with other famous people, charge exorbitant prices for his creations, make more money than he knew what to do with, and read his name in the paper every day. On the other hand, most famous people were boring (and he'd been around them since childhood, after all), he could have still turned a nice profit charging less, he didn't need close to that amount of money in the first place, and he couldn't go anywhere without the goddamn paparazzi following him.

He'd tried almost everything to avoid them: he took public transportation (everyone recognized him and out came the camera phones), he'd dart around the side streets (they had damn good noses), he'd walk and dress completely uncharacteristically—but they found him every time. He'd managed to evade them for a couple of hours when he went to lunch the other day, but walking home had been a completely different story. A wig, a hat, sunglasses, and an oversized suit had been his best disguise yet—but he still needed to go one step further.

Why not dress as a woman? He'd done that quite often as a small child, and, well, if a pervert got a nasty shock trying to take an up-skirt photo, all the better. Besides, he was still slim and had been told by many a hired stylist how androgynous he looked (he was never quite sure if it was a compliment or not). And he had all those dresses he'd been working on in his apartment, and a bit of makeup. He wouldn't need to plaster it on, of course…

It was early spring, so he could still get away with wearing tights, actually. The hair on his legs was pale enough so that he could get away with not shaving it, especially with dark, opaque tights on. Of course, that left out most of the sundresses, but a heather grey pleated pinafore dress would do just fine over a brightly red t-shirt. Just the right amount of eye shadow and mascara accentuated his eyes, and a bit of blush completed the makeup, except for a bit of concealer to hide a mole on his neck. To make doubly sure that the mole wouldn't be recognized if the concealer failed, he wrapped a black scarf around his neck. Shoes would be a bit of a problem; he definitely didn't own any flats in his size and he was already tall for a woman. Fortunately, motorcycle boots with worn-out treads that he'd been meaning to throw away wouldn't add much to his height and were unisex. Then, of course, the hair.

He wasn't going to wear a wig again, though it was tempting. He didn't have a wig that would look very natural without a hat, and he didn't have any hats that he hadn't been photographed in. Dying or bleaching his hair for just this would be out of the question. Of course, he always gelled it, so if he let it hang…no, he frowned at his reflection. Still too obvious. He grabbed a curling iron and heated it up, hoping that this would be the perfect last touch. After ten minutes of winding the rod around his hair, he reassessed his reflection. Not bad. The tight curls were just a bit too reminiscent of a clown for his liking, but, Kaoru reminded himself, he wasn't Kaoru right now. He might draw the odd stare, but this neighborhood's denizens were noted for being a bit…wacky. He wouldn't be too memorable. With that in mind, he sprayed his hair in place, grabbed his laptop, shoved it in a tote bag, and left the apartment. The doorman raised an eyebrow downstairs, but probably figuring it was just some tenant's latest conquest in a rather late walk of shame, let him pass without a word.

There were a couple of paparazzi waiting outside (Kaoru was far from the only famous resident in this building) but no one recognized him and they let him pass. He tried not to show too much relief or glee on his face, and to walk lightly. To be more feminine.

He made it all the way to the café, ordered a cappuccino, and sat down with it. Still no recognition as he opened up his laptop and checked his e-mail. He began to relax as he sipped the hot drink, which of course was a mistake.

It wasn't a paparazzo who recognized him, so, small victories. On the other hand, it was Ohtori Kyoya, his (very, _very_ secret) boyfriend of a few months, so…yeah.

"Hey, Kaoru."

He jumped nearly out of his skin. _Oh, shit_. "Kyoya!" he replied with a girlish giggle. "How have you been?"

He shrugged and sat down across from Kaoru. "Have I missed some important self-discovery?" He gestured at Kaoru's outfit. "I hope you'll use an Ohtori hospital if you're considering surgery. We might even waive a few fees."

Kaoru couldn't stop himself from blushing. "I'm just trying to avoid the paparazzi again."

"Well, I don't suppose me sitting across from you will help all that much," Kyoya replied, grinning wolfishly. As if on cue, a flashbulb went off. They had been found.

"Well, too late, I guess." Kaoru sighed.

"Ohtori-san! Who's this girl?" The photographer leaned in and tried to get a good look at Kaor's laptop, which he hastily closed.

Kyoya ignored him and took a sip of his drink. "Have you had their chamomile tea? It's quite good."

"No," Kaoru replied. "I prefer coffee." He indicated to his nearly-finished cappuccino. "Their cappuccino is excellent, as well."

"I see…" Kyoya replied. More photographers had entered the café and the manager was attempting to shoo them out.

"Shall we make a run for it?" Kaoru muttered under his breath.

"Sounds like a plan." Kyoya whipped out his phone and sent a text to his driver, while Kaoru put his laptop away. They stood up and indeed ran, out of the door, Kyoya holding onto Kaoru's wrist tightly. Tachibana was already out front with the car, and they piled into the backseat quickly.

"Please, Tachibana, my apartment." Tachibana glanced bemusedly at Kaoru, but shrugged and did as he was told.

"You could have left me alone," Kaoru grumbled.

"Me? Never." Kyoya ran a hand through Kaoru's hair. "Please tell me this isn't a perm; it looks ridiculous."

"Well, the paparazzi didn't recognize me. I could have used that disguise multiple times, but you ruined it. But now they'll follow me around asking about you. And no, it's not a perm."

"So you're not going to…become a woman?"

Was that really bothering him? "No, idiot. I'm still a man in every way."

Kyoya laced his hand through Kaoru's, caressing it slowly. "In every way? Are you sure? Because I'm not."

It was a good thing Kaoru was already completely head-over-heels, because Kyoya's pickup lines were awful. He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way at his boyfriend.

* * *

"Are you sure this wasn't just an elaborate scheme to steal my clothes?" Kyoya asked, turning over in his bed while Kaoru tried to decide between the white shirt or the yellow.

"It's not all about you, you know," Kaoru replied. "Besides, all of your clothes are tailored to fit you and not me."

"You look fine. Better than you do in a dress, anyway."

Kaoru rolled his eyes. "Will you shut up about that? Besides, what are they going to say when they see me leaving your place after not entering it and wearing your clothes?"

"Let them say what they want. It's not like we'd be able to hide it forever. They'd eventually find out and get into our business anyway, and it looks a lot better for us if we take it public ourselves."

There may have been some truth to that. Kaoru dropped the white shirt and slipped on the yellow, not bothering with a tie or a jacket. He buttoned up the shirt but left it un-tucked (Kyoya's belt, while very becoming on him, did not suit Kaoru at all. It was too thick.) and ran his fingers through his once-again-straight hair. (Kyoya had made him wash it twice as soon as they came in.) He bent over Kyoya to give him a goodbye kiss, but he found he couldn't get up again. Kyoya was gripping him too strongly.

"I've got the afternoon off; you had enough time to figure out that outfit." Kaoru heard the unspoken _when are we going to get another opportunity like this?_

He kicked off his boots and rolled over, went back under the covers and snuggled up next to Kyoya. Especially if the paparazzi knew, they'd almost never get any more peace.


End file.
